Going Crazy Over You
by Pikapegasus
Summary: Natasha doesn't even know if Clint's actually here, but him suddenly missing school and the circus being in town are two events that cannot just be independent of each other. There is no way this is just a coincidence. (Clintasha Week 2016, Day 7: Free) (Childhood friends AU.) (Oneshot.)


**Clintasha Week, Day 7:** Free

Back at it again with the childhood friends AU, except this one is super duper hella long...can you tell how much I love writing the Avengers as kids? cries a lil...ALSO this one is not as lighthearted as my last one, as it deals with some of Clint's less-than-pleasant past (child abuse). So, yeah.

* * *

"Have you seen Clint?"

Natasha anxiously picks at her nails as her friends all turn to look at her, sitting down at the cafeteria table with them. She frowns at the empty seat beside her that is typically reserved for Clint, glancing among the members of their group.

"He hasn't been at school today," Steve answers for everyone, also frowning. "We figured you would know where he is."

A doctor's appointment had consumed most of Natasha's morning, so Mr. Petrovitch had to drop her off at school right before lunch time so she could catch her last few classes of the day. She hadn't seen Clint since the night before, when she'd gone over to his and Coulson's house for dinner, but neither of them had mentioned him being absent today.

"Maybe he's sick," Bruce suggests, plopping a grape into his mouth.

The last time Clint had been sick enough to miss school, he'd lost his hearing and had to wear hearing aids from then on after that. Natasha quickly shakes her head, dismissing the scary thought. "He was fine last night."

"He could have woken up with a cold today," Steve says, sketching something in his notebook. Natasha wonders if it's a new Avengers comic. (Steve likes to illustrate some of their old avenging escapades.) "What do you think, Tony?"

Tony shrugs. "He never told _me_ anything about missing school, but I think if he was going to tell anyone about it, he'd tell Nat."

Thor nods solemnly. "Natasha holds the key to Clint's heart. If she does not know, we do not know."

Natasha laughs softly. "I'm just as clueless as you guys on this one. I'll ask Coulson after school."

Clint's rocky family situation had come to a head three years ago, while they'd all been in fourth grade, and had ended in the death of Clint's mother, the arrest of his father, and the flight of his older brother. Clint's been living with Coulson, their beloved first grade teacher, ever since. Coulson's always treated Clint and Natasha like his own children since they'd left first grade, helping them through the not-so-pleasant moments of their childhoods. Because of this, Coulson offered to take in Clint after the destruction of his family, and Clint had gratefully accepted the offer. On top of that, Coulson lives _next door_ to Natasha, a step up from Clint's previous house, which had been around the block.

So if anyone knows where Clint is, it'd be Coulson. Natasha plans to swing by his classroom to ask him about Clint's absence later.

* * *

"Clint didn't feel good this morning, so he stayed home," Coulson explains. "He wasn't too out of it, so I let him stay by himself. He reassured me that he's a 'big boy' and 'capable of taking care of himself.'"

That definitely sounds like Clint. Natasha nods, smiling. "Oh, okay. I'm glad he's not _too_ sick."

Coulson returns her smile, laying a hand on Natasha's shoulder. "It's nothing to worry about, Natasha. It's nothing like last time. He should be back up on his feet by now if he isn't already, anyway."

Natasha sighs in relief. She still remembers visiting Clint in the hospital back during fifth grade; he'd been so out of it and practically unable to communicate with her. It'd taken them a few weeks to master enough sign language just to have a full conversation. "Thank you, Coulson."

"I'm not sure what your plans are today, but you can visit him when you get home, if you want," Coulson says. "I'm sure he'd love to see you after being cooped up all day."

"I was planning on it," Natasha admits. She takes a step back, her hands grasping the straps of her backpack. "I'll get going now so I can check up on him. See you later, Coulson!"

"Bye, Natasha, bike safely." Coulson waves at her, turning back to his desk, littered in paperwork and art supplies. Natasha smiles to herself at the sight before hurrying out of the classroom and toward the front of the school where she and her friends always park their bikes.

When she arrives at the rack, she notices everyone else's bikes are gone, which doesn't surprise her. Ever since they'd entered the "junior high" section of their school in sixth grade, hanging out during the school year had suddenly become something of a challenge. With everyone's various extracurricular activities and homework assignments, Natasha had found herself spending more one-on-one time with Clint than she had since they'd befriended the rest of the Avengers, which had been _six years ago._ Time really flew by quickly!

Unlocking her bike lock and tossing the chain into the basket, she pulls it out from the rack and wheels it toward the gate (school policy states that students must _walk_ their bikes while on campus, which she and Clint have both been busted for countless times in the past). Strapping on her black helmet, which features a red, hourglass-shaped sticker in honor of her Avenger persona, _Black Widow_ , Natasha stops as she notices Jane and Darcy from her class standing a few feet away from the gate.

"Jane, the circus is in town!" Dary announces, throwing her hands up with excitement. "We should go this weekend to see all the cool animals!"

"I don't know," Jane replies, her voice laced with uncertainty. "I've read a lot of things about how circus animals aren't usually treated very well. They're all forced to perform. It's awful."

"Really?" Darcy deflates. "That sucks. Then maybe we shouldn't go! Let's go see a movie instead!"

But Natasha's breath catches in her throat. The circus is in town? She's lived in this town for nearly eight years with Mr. Petrovich now, and of all the times she can remember the circus coming around, it's been the same company and people.

Her feet quickly carry her over to Jane and Darcy. "Hey, guys!"

"Oh, hey, Nat!" Darcy greets as cheerfully as ever.

"Did you just say the circus is in town?" Natasha asks quickly, looking between them. Her heart is _pounding_ , the sound echoing in her ears. She prays to God that Darcy is wrong, that there's been some sort of mistake…

"Hm? Oh, yeah!" Darcy answers. "But Jane said they're not very nice to the animals, so I don't think we're gonna go."

"Are you _sure_ the circus is here?" Natasha demands.

"I saw an ad for it in my dad's newspaper this morning," Jane says. "It's at the big field, over by-"

"Thanks," Natasha cuts her off, throwing a leg over her bike, "but I gotta go right now. I'll see you guys tomorrow!"

She pushes off without looking back at them, pedaling out through the gate. Her breaths are coming short and fast now, her ears filled with the sound of her blood pounding. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. She should have seen the ad, she should have skipped out on her doctor's appointment, _she should have…_

No. There's nothing she can do about this morning now. She swallows thickly, biking as fast as she can down the street.

* * *

It takes eight and a half minutes to get to the field from the school via bike, a new record for Natasha. But she pushes that thought out of her mind; there's only one thing she's focusing on right now.

She parks her bike under an aggressive "no parking" sign, skipping out on locking it to the pole altogether. She sheds her backpack and helmet, tossing them carelessly onto grass beside her bike. Sure enough, there's a huge, red-and-white tent in the middle of the field, accompanied by several smaller tents, some of which still appear to need setting up.

Natasha runs across the field, her long hair whipping in the wind behind her. Mr. Petrovich may scold her later for dirtying her white tights and Mary Janes, but she doesn't care about that now, as she finds herself praying again.

Please don't let Clint be here.

Please don't let Clint be here.

Please don't let Clint be here.

Please…

She skids to a stop on the outskirts of the circus area, breathing heavily. Both the physical stress of biking here so quickly and feeling so anxious seem to be constricting her lungs as she glances around, studying the various adults walking by and setting things up. She can even hear monkeys screeching from inside the tent.

Please, please, please, please…

If she could, Natasha would do anything she can to prevent this from happening again. The memories from fourth grade are still fresh in her mind: Clint's broken fingers; Clint's empty eyes; Clint's forced smile; Clint's bruised face; Clint's blood…

Squeezing her eyes shut, Natasha clenches her fists, trying to force back the tears stinging at her eyes. She doesn't even know if Clint's actually here, but him suddenly missing school and the circus being in town are two events that _cannot_ just be independent of each other. There is no way this is just a coincidence. Coulson would agree with her, if he were here; Natasha figures he must not have heard about the circus coming to town.

"Nat?"

No…

Please, no…

"Natasha," the voice is more firm this time, yet lacking the warm confidence that truly makes it _his_ voice, "what are you doing here?"

Forcing her eyes open, Natasha turns around, and finds herself standing face to face with Clint, and she can't withhold her sharp inhale at his appearance.

There are already a few bruises littered across his arms and legs, the brownish-purple hue standing out boldly from Clint's tan skin. Clint's face looks okay still, lacking any visible signs of abuse, but his eyes are as lifeless as Natasha remembers them being three years ago. He's holding plastic grocery bags of what appears to be alcohol. Natasha bites her lip, feeling tears well up more strongly.

"Clint…" she murmurs, her entire body trembling now. "Please, Clint, don't do this again, _please_ , just come _home._ "

She doesn't need to explain her words to him; he knows, as they've had to overcome this obstacle once before. And, just as he had the first time, he shakes his head. "This is my home, Nat. My family is here."

"Barney is _not_ your family," Natasha snaps, clenching her fists more tightly. "Family doesn't abandon each other, and that's _exactly_ what Barney did to you. Come home, to your _real_ home, where people _really_ care about you _._ "

"I'm just a burden to Coulson," Clint insists quietly, smiling ruefully. It sickens Natasha. "When I'm here, I can be useful. I'm helping my family. So don't worry about me."

"Clint-"

"Well, well, well, if isn't the redhead."

Natasha tenses at the voice behind her, narrowing her eyes. She feels a fire burn within her as she turns to meet Barney's eyes with a defiant scowl. " _You._ "

"Me," Barney shrugs with a smirk. "I see you haven't changed one bit, have ya, Natty?"

"Do _not_ call me that," Natasha says through gritted teeth. At age fifteen, Barney towers over Natasha easily. She hasn't even reached the five foot mark in terms of height yet, and she's already _twelve._ Despite that, she sizes Barney up. Coulson has been taking her and Clint to several different martial art and self-defense classes over the years, and she wonders if she's learned enough to take him out yet. "Pack up your circus and get out of here. We don't want you."

"Aw, come on, now, that's no way to talk to family," Barney teases, leaning forward with his hands on her knees, _looking down_ at her. Natasha's scowl deepens. "'Sides, weren't you planning on marrying my baby bro one day? That makes us in-laws, Natty."

"You mean _nothing_ to me," Natasha insists. "Stop messing with Clint's head and leave him alone. Let him come home. _This_ is not his home."

"You're still just as bossy as I remember," Barney says, standing up straight again. He crosses his arms over his chest, looking at Clint over Natasha's shoulder. "You have one hell of a taste in girls, Clinton."

"Knock it off, Barney," Clint says. Natasha never takes her eyes off of Barney, but feels Clint step up beside her. "Leave Natasha out of this. She has nothing to do with it." He turns his gaze toward her. "Go home, Tash. I'm fine here."

"No, you're _not!_ " Natasha exclaims, looking to Clint as if he's grown another head. "These people don't care about you, Clint! They're just here to _hurt_ you! Why can't you see that?"

"It doesn't matter." Clint shakes his head. "Barney is my brother. I have to be here."

Natasha crosses her arms over her chest, looking between the Barton brothers. "Just wait until _Coulson_ hears about this." She glares at Barney. "He's going to call the cops on your _ass_."

"It's impolite for girls to swear," Barney comments.

"No, Natasha, _please_ , don't tell Coulson." Clint steps in between her and Barney, looking at her with desperation in his eyes. The glass of the beer bottles in his bags _clangs_ together as he brings his hands up to grasp her shoulders. "Please don't tell him, Natasha. This has to be our secret."

"Are you _insane?_ " Natasha gapes at him. "Clint, _clearly_ you can't think rationally anymore. But it's okay, because if you can't get out, _we'll_ get you out. I promise."

He shakes his head again. "No, I'm _serious_ , Nat."

"It's easy," Barney says, walking up to them and pushing Clint out of the way. He pushes his face until he's just inches away from Natasha's. She switches to breathing through her mouth; his breath reeks of alcohol. "You tell the cops, Clinton gets fed to the lions. Why do you think he's here right now?"

Natasha doesn't want to look away from Barney, but she _needs_ to know if Clint's being manipulated into staying like that. _Of course_ he wouldn't want to come back to the circus, but he's the type of person who feels obligated to jump through these insane hoops to reach self-validation and redemption. He's always felt guilty for making others worry, and will act with a sense of "atoning for his sins." It comes from the venom Natasha knows Clint's brother and father both fed him on a daily basis back when they were younger. So she glances at Clint, who's just standing there with his lips pressed together.

He's too selfless to be threatened with endangerment of his own life to come back; Barney must have threatened him with something else, along with feeding the fire that is Clint's struggling self-esteem.

She also notices Barney's right hand rising up to her face. Is he really going to hit her? As if _that_ would discourage her from standing up for Clint. She's been hit several times in her life, enough to feel indifferent toward such a threat. Barney really needs to step up his intimidation game.

But then she realizes he wasn't trying to scare _her_ , because his fist is suddenly swinging toward her and she feels herself pushed down the ground before it can connect with her cheek. She grunts as her bottom comes in contact with the dry grass (hopefully not staining her uniform skirt, _whoops_ ), and looks up, surprised to see Clint standing where she had moments before. He's got both hands up, blocking Barney's half-hearted punch, the plastic bags stretching with the effort of carrying the heavy liquor.

"I told you to leave her out of this!" Clint yells, but his voice is far from defiant. If anything, Clint sounds tearful, _scared._ And whenever Clint's scared, Natasha can't help but feel _terrified._ "Don't touch her, _please._ "

His _please_ pierces Natasha's heart. She roughly wipes at her wet eyes, because now isn't the time or place to cry. She needs to be brave for Clint.

Barney relaxes his arm, stepping back from Clint. "You know what'll happen if you leave, Clinton. So you know what to do."

Clint's arms fall back at his sides then, the bags of alcohol _clinking_ softly with the motion. He nods, then turns back toward Natasha, his eyes reddened with tears. "Please go home, Natasha. It's not safe for you to be here. I'll be okay, I promise."

Natasha pushes herself to her feet, her eyes stinging at the sight. This isn't _fair._ Clint doesn't deserve this. "Clint…"

"Don't tell Coulson that I'm here," Clint reminds her, averting his eyes. "He can't know. I have to stay here for a while and do my part, but everything is going to be okay, I promise, I swear on Avenger's honor _._ So, please, just go home."

She realizes that she will not win this fight today. Barney's got Clint under some sort of spell of threats, and Natasha _knows_ Barney doesn't care about Clint in the slightest. If she reported him to Coulson and the cops, he very well may kill Clint (whether it'll be by feeding him to the lions or something else, Natasha isn't sure, but she doesn't want to test him).

"Promise me you won't tell," Clint murmurs, grabbing her right hand and gently pushing it against her chest, where her heart lies beneath her skin. "Swear on your Avenger's honor for me."

"I…" Natasha inhales through her nose, but it comes out as a sniffle. She turns the hand Clint is holding, intertwining their fingers. Taking a deep, composing breath, she nods. "I swear on Avenger's honor I won't tell."

"Thank you," Clint mumbles, offering her a small smile. Natasha weakly manages to reciprocate it. He lets go of her hand, turning back to Barney. "See you later, Nat."

And they walk away, leaving Natasha on the outskirts of the circus area.

Once they disappear into one of the smaller tents, she falls to her knees with a sob, tears leaking from her eyes and landing on the dead blades of grass below. Her fingers curl into the dirt as her body shakes with each sob.

* * *

Unknown to many, Natasha _hates_ lying.

No matter how good she may be at deceiving others, she loathes having to hide or twist the truth for any reason. It's different from when she used to play Avengers with her friends, where she'd pretend to be different characters, sometimes even bad guys. It's also different from when she's done it for protection, both of herself and others.

But this? This isn't protection, because Clint's still getting hurt. And it's not a game, because if it were, Natasha could have ended it by now.

When Coulson comes over to her house later that night, inquiring about Clint's whereabouts, Natasha just shakes her head and insists that she never visited Clint after school. She had a big project due in biology. Pepper is her partner. Natasha needed to do her half of the work. No, none of their other friends have seen Clint all day. They don't know where he is, either.

When Mr. Petrovich is pacing by the front door and Coulson is calling the cops to formally report Clint as missing, Natasha finds herself struggling to maintain her facade. She runs upstairs to her room to hide herself and her _lies._ She wonders where and how Clint is sleeping tonight.

When she steps foot into homeroom just before 8 A.M. the next morning and catches sight of Clint's empty desk behind Bruce's, she silently walks to her desk and sits down without looking at any of her other friends.

When they ask her about Clint's whereabouts, she informs them that she does not know, that he is currently _missing._ They all (naturally) freak out and press her with more questions.

"I can't believe he'd just _leave_ ," Tony insists, pulling at his hair. It's disheveled from the nervous abuse he's been giving it for the past five minutes. He turns to Bruce. "We've got samples of Clint's DNA, right? Can we make some sort of tracker, something that can scan the town to find any traces of his DNA?"

"I think that's only possible in movies, Tony," Bruce says softly.

Tony grumbles something about Stark men not believing in the word _impossible._

"Natasha, are you okay?" Pepper asks, laying a hand on Natasha's arm. "You don't look so good."

"I'm _fine,_ " Natasha insists, shrugging Pepper's hand off and turning her face away from the lively group. It's not fair that she gets to sit at school, surrounded by their friends, only a few doors away from the protective Coulson (though he may have taken the day off to try to find Clint, Natasha really doesn't know), _completely safe._ Is Clint still asleep right now? He usually likes to sleep in, but something tells Natasha that Trick Shot and them aren't as lenient about Clint sleeping in as Coulson. Is he being hurt right now?

Natasha squeezes her eyes shut, feeling her shoulders tremble with the same fear she'd harbored when seeing him yesterday. Maybe if she focuses _completely_ on him, she can feel his pain, even take some of it herself so it doesn't hurt him as much. She hasn't done this since their elementary school days, before she and her friends managed to help Clint escape his abusive home; she recalls sitting up in her bed at night, trying to connect her soul to Clint's to help him endure whatever pain he may be going through.

But it doesn't work that way. Natasha isn't a little kid anymore. She knows what she's doing won't help him at all, but maybe, just _maybe…_

She flinches when someone touches her shoulder, but quickly registers it as the hand of one of her friends. Opening her eyes and looking up, she recognizes Steve looking down at her, his eyes melancholy.

"It's going to be okay, Natasha," Steve murmurs. "We'll find Clint. He's counting on us, right? We can't let him down. And I know that you're counting on us, too."

"Good morning, friends!" Thor bellows, walking up to the group with a grin that clearly means he's unaware of the crisis at hand. He stops as he looks between Steve and Natasha's conflicting expressions. "Oh, is there a crisis at hand? Jane and Darcy alerted me yesterday that something was wrong."

"Jane and Darcy?" Everyone but Natasha echoes, all looking to Thor for an explanation. She leans back, biting her lip. He can't mean…!

"Aye. They came over for dinner yesterday," Thor explains, focusing his eyes on Natasha. "They informed me that Natasha was troubled by something when they spoke with her after school."

Suddenly, there are five pairs of eyes scrutinizing Natasha, and she tries her best to remain standing against them. It's even worse than the time they'd pressed her for who, of the five male Avengers, she would marry, back when they were in third grade. She swallows nervously.

"And they spoke about…?" Tony prompts Thor.

"A very mundane topic, surprisingly. The circus appears to be in town."

Goddamn it.

"The circus?" Bruce echoes, looking among the group. "Wait a minute. And Clint is…"

Steve gasps. "He _couldn't have…_ "

They're all looking to her again. Natasha feels an uncomfortable amount of heat rise up within her, making her dizzy and upsetting her belly. She pushes herself up to her feet, glaring at everyone. " _There._ You got your answer. You happy?"

She weaves through the group, walking to the back of the classroom where the cubbies are. It's hard to walk; her legs won't stop _shaking._ She isn't sure what's going on, so she pushes her palm against a white cabinet for support. The others surround her quickly.

"Natasha, _wait_ , is _that_ where Clint is?" Steve asks, standing in front of her.

" _Please_ leave me alone," Natasha murmurs, her eyes stinging with tears. She averts her gaze.

"I am confused," Thor announces.

"Clint is missing," Pepper explains. "And, if the circus is in town, that means…"

" _Oh_ ," Thor blinks in surprise, "I'm sorry, Natasha, I did not realize-"

"Just _shut up!_ " Natasha hisses, breathing heavily. Her vision is starting to swim a little. She presses her shoulder against the cabinet for further support. "I don't know anything, I just know Clint is missing, and-"

"Bullshit," Tony cuts her off. "You know Clint better than any of us. You knew _exactly_ that that's where he is!"

"Tony," Pepper says softly, grabbing his arm and pulling him back. "That's enough."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Bruce asks. "Natasha, we can't let him stay there."

"I _know_ that," Natasha growls, feeling her tears escape. "Okay? I. Know. But I'm not _supposed_ to know, because if I tell, then Barney will...w-will…" She slides down against the painted surface until she's on her knees, a sob rattling her entire body. She slams her fist down on the tiled floor. "I'm so _stupid,_ I should have known this was coming, I should have _stopped him_ , I…"

Before she can restrain herself, she's crying loudly, ducking her head into her lap. Is Clint crying right now, too? Is he hurting, too? Surely, if he's hurting, Natasha is not hurting _anywhere_ near as much as him. She accepts that. She slams her fist onto the floor once more. She's so freaking _powerless_ in this. She can't even protect the _one thing_ that matters to her more than anything, her _most precious thing._

"Whoa, whoa, Nat, calm down." Steve's hands are suddenly on her, holding her arm back before she can hit the floor once more. "We're sorry, okay? We didn't mean to upset you."

"Natasha, look at me." Pepper's suddenly crouching down in front of her. Natasha glances at her through her disheveled red curls, biting back a sob as she recognizes the empathetic redness in Pepper's eyes. Pepper grabs her other hand, as Steve hasn't released her left. "We'll save Clint, just like we did last time, okay? _You'll_ save him. You were the one that convinced him to accept our help to get him out of his house, and you also convinced him to leave the circus. You're going to save him again and we'll all be by your side through the whole thing, okay? Don't lose hope."

"Clint…" Natasha whimpers. God, she wishes he were here. She _never_ loses her cool like this in front of their friends, except for the times _he's_ been the one in danger. He's the one she's always depended on to help her through her heavy emotions.

"Uh, guys, Principal Fury is coming in," Tony announces.

"Don't tell him," Natasha begs, looking to Tony wildly. "Tony, I'm serious, _don't._ Barney said if I told anyone, he would kill-"

"Principal Fury," Bruce cuts her off, calling Fury's attention over to their situation. Natasha would normally glare at Bruce, but her eyes are too wet to be effective. "I think Natasha is having a panic attack. May we take her to the nurse's office?"

"A panic attack? Natasha, are you alright?" Fury asks, walking up to the group.

Natasha doesn't even want to _look_ around the classroom to see the expressions on everyone else's faces. They must think she's a _mess_. She manages to meet Fury's eye and shrugs. "I just want to know Clint is okay," she lies. "He's my best friend."

(That part isn't a lie.)

"That's what I was coming into your class today to talk about," Fury says. He glances around at the group. "I know you're all good friends with Clint, so you must be upset. Perhaps you should all see the nurse."

Steve helps Natasha to her feet and she uses the motion to hide her shoulders sagging in relief. If everyone leaves the classroom, no one will spill the secret. Next thing she knows, Steve is tugging on her hand and leading her out of the classroom.

* * *

"I'm sorry I lied," Natasha says quietly, picking at a cotton ball she'd stolen from the nurse's supplies. She looks at each of her friends with a sigh. "Like I said, Barney threatened me when I saw Clint. He said he'd kill Clint if I told anyone about what was happening."

"I hate him," Tony announces as if nobody else shares his feelings. "I hate that Barney guy. He's a dick."

"What are we going to do?" Bruce asks. "If we can't call the cops, how do we get Clint out?"

"This is tricky." Steve crosses his arms over his chest. "I'm not sure what we _can_ do."

" _You_ don't have to do anything," Natasha says, sliding off of the stiff bed so she's standing in the circle of her friends. They all tower over her (except for Steve), but she's never let it intimidate her; she makes up for her short height in every other way she can. "I'm going to break Clint out myself."

"Natasha, that is very irresponsible and dangerous," Thor says, frowning. "You cannot fight off clowns _and_ Clint's elder brother."

"Watch me." Natasha takes a step toward the door, but Pepper grabs her wrist.

"Thor's right," Pepper says. "They could _kill_ you, Natasha."

"I don't _care_ ," Natasha protests, freeing her arm from Pepper's grasp. "It's _Clint_ we need to be worried about."

"That doesn't mean we can act recklessly," Steve reminds. "How would Clint feel if he knew you were going to put yourself in danger's way like this?"

"I'd rather him be upset than be _dead_ ," Natasha snaps, crossing her arms over her chest. "Does anyone else have any _better_ ideas? Because I highly doubt it."

"Natasha," the school nurse pokes her head in, offering Natasha gentle smile, "your father is here to pick you up."

"He's _not_ my father," Natasha mutters. Ivan Petrovich may clothe, feed, and care for her, but that doesn't make him her _father._ She drags her feet, walking up to the door and following the nurse. She can feel everyone staring after her.

"Don't do something stupid, Nat," Steve warns.

"We can talk about this more after school," Tony suggests. "So don't get _yourself_ captured by a bunch of freaky clowns, too, okay?"

Natasha's ready to turn back and snap at Tony because _now is not the time_ , but Mr. Petrovich is suddenly standing before her, his eyes full of worry. "Natalia! Are you alright? I got a call from the nurse, and-"

"I'm _fine,_ " Natasha insists, pushing past him. She walks toward the exit, Mr. Petrovich trailing behind her. This is ridiculous. During times of crisis, Natasha often feels as if she's the only one with her head on and priorities straight.

If only Clint was here to help.

* * *

Natasha can't sleep.

Despite the nurse's orders to rest once she got home with Mr. Petrovich, any time Natasha closes her eyes, she finds herself staring into the broken eyes of Clint the child carnie, dragged into this life by his brother out of fear of their abusive father. Normally when Natasha sees this, she can open her eyes and reassure herself, as she's waking up in a world in which Clint is just next door, completely safe and sound.

Instead, when she opens her eyes now, she's just living in a hell akin to her dreams.

She fiddles with the arrow necklace he'd gifted her with years ago, rubbing the silvery metal charm between her thumb and index finger. At least a _part_ of him is with her. It's better than none, Natasha, figures, but it's nothing like sitting next to the _actual_ Clint.

"I _hate_ you, Clint," she mumbles to herself, pulling her bed covers over her face. "I hate you more than I hate Russia."

And she _really_ hates Russia.

"I hate you more than getting my socks wet in the rain," she continues begrudgingly to herself. "I hate you more than when Tony says something really dumb, but acts like he's still right. I hate you so much I wish I could just…"

Her anger fades with her voice as tears prick her eyes. She squeezes them closed. "I wish I could just _be_ with you again. Ugh. I hate you _so much._ "

Natasha rolls over in her bed, pushing her face into her pillow. She _desperately_ wants to go out and find Clint, but Mr. Petrovich has forbade her from leaving the house (as he fears her wandering off to find Clint, but she knows how to escape her house without making a sound) and she doesn't even have an idea of what to do to free him from Barney's grasp.

She thinks of how sad Coulson must be. He really, really loves Clint, as if Clint is actually his son. Natasha can tell, just from the way Coulson treats Clint. Even though she'd promised to help Clint, she _hates_ lying to Coulson, because he's somewhat of a father to her, too.

What did the circus need Clint for, anyway? An extra pair of hands?

Natasha sits up, the covers falling from her face. She can do that. She can carry things and take orders (hell, as far as she knew, that's all she'd done before Mr. Petrovich had taken her from Russia to America when she was five). Maybe they'll let her take Clint's place?

It's highly unlikely and probably the weakest plan she's ever created, but she can't handle sitting idly in her room any longer. She'll take any punches she can for Clint. He deserves a chance to rest. She's tough; she can handle the pain for _both_ of them.

* * *

"What? You want Clint's job?"

Natasha nods, her high ponytail bobbing up and down with the motion of her head. She rests her hands in her sweatshirt pocket. "Clint needs to stay in school. He still has a lot to learn," she says as indifferently as she can, "but I'm at the top of our class, next to Tony Stark. I don't need to go to school anymore."

(While Tony is at the top of their class for grades, Natasha knows Bruce and Pepper are up there, too. She's not sure which of them are the student with the _best_ grades, but she knows that her straight A's have at least brought her close to those three.)

Barney raises an eyebrow, glancing at Trick Shot standing beside him. "What do you think?"

"We could use a girl around here for a change," Trick Shot says thoughtfully.

"I'm much more useful than _Clint_." God, forcing the venom into her voice is practically painful, but it must be done. "He's too lanky to be any good. But I can fit into small spaces, _and_ still carry heavy loads. I'm the the more beneficial choice."

She swears Barney _giggles._ "I can't believe this. You're sticking your neck out for _him?_ "

"I'm tired of being overshadowed by Clint," Natasha insists. "He's not _that_ great. I'm _twice_ as good as him at everything. It's my turn to show off."

"Nat?"

Oh no. She's been made.

Clint, having just entered the tent, blinks at her in surprise, looking between her and Barney.

Natasha scrambles for some sort of excuse. "Clint, it's-"

"Natasha!" he repeats, running between them and her. He faces her with wide eyes. "Tasha, what the hell?"

"What do you mean, what the hell?" Natasha rolls her eyes.

"Why are you here? Did they hurt you?" Clint grabs her arm, pulling back her sweatshirt sleeve and studying her skin. He repeats this with her other arm, then glances over her face. "What did they do to you?"

"I'm _fine_." She shrugs him off. "They didn't even touch me."

"Yet!" Clint points out. He grabs her hand. "You need to leave!"

"Well, baby bro," Barney says, walking up to them, "Natty here came to take your job."

"My job?"

Natasha schools her features, maintaining a neutral expression, but averts her eyes.

"She claims you're too dumb for us," Barney continues. "Says she's the top of your class, next to Stark, so she'd be of a lot more use to us."

" _What?_ " Clint exclaims, and Natasha knows it's not because he's offended by her lofty words about herself. He glares at her. "Natasha."

"Maybe she's got a point." Barney pushes Clint away from Natasha, standing beside her. He puts a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it. Natasha refuses to react. "You're not _that_ bright, kid. So you should stay in school while we take Natty here on the road with us. How's that sound?"

Clint's glare has softened, but he's still staring intensely at her. "Natasha, why are you doing this?"

"You heard your brother," Natasha forces herself to meet his eyes, " _I'm_ better than you. I'm smarter, stronger, and, simply, more useful. Clearly, I am the better choice."

"Tasha…" Clint's eyes are glossy. Natasha hopes that he _knows_ she didn't mean any of the things she'd said; she just _has_ to say them, or else her plan won't work.

"Hey, maybe _I'll_ marry Natty, then," Barney comments. Natasha can't help but clench her fists at her sides at the thought; marry _Barney?_ She'd rather marry _Tony!_

That seems to snap something in Clint, because in the blink of an eye, Natasha finds herself pushed aside as Clint launches himself at Barney. She reaches a hand out to stop the scuffle, but Trick Shot is suddenly behind her, holding her back. He's holding an arrow in one hand, the head of it pointed at Natasha's neck.

Okay, maybe she should have come with a prepared plan in the case of her being restrained.

Barney punches Clint and pushes him to the ground. Clint cries out in pain, looking up at Barney with wide eyes. Natasha recognizes the expression; he's not seeing Barney anymore, he's seeing their _father._

"Clint, it's okay, calm down!" Natasha calls to him as he fearfully scoots away from Barney. "It's not your dad, it's just your brother!" (Well, that isn't much better, but _still._ ) She tries to pull away from Trick Shot, but he's holding both of her arms behind her back. "Clint!"

"Come on, baby bro." Barney roughly picks Clint up by his shirt collar. "Remember the deal? Cooperate with us, or Natty gets it. Remember?" Clint's still struggling through some sort of mental fog, judging by his dazed expression. Barney slaps him. Natasha cries out in protest, but Trick Shot holds her in place.

"I'm sorry," Clint whimpers. Natasha remembers holding Clint while he apologized repetitively to a wall in her room, his mind taken by a vision of his father. She wishes she could comfort him the same way now. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"

"You're pathetic," Barney comments.

Natasha closes her eyes, feeling tears gathering.

She's sorry, too.

* * *

Clint comes to in a cage.

Admittedly, it's not the _weirdest_ place he's woken up, but it's hardly comfortable. He sits up with a groan, rubbing his head with his hand. What happened? And why is he in a cage? The answer seems to have escaped him. Looking up, he recognizes the striped pattern of a tent, and sighs.

Looking forward, however, his eyes widen at the sight of Natasha sprawled out on the ground, just outside of the cage.

He gasps, trying to reach a hand out to her through the bars. "Natasha? Natasha! Wake up, Nat! Wake up!"

She responds with a cough, turning her head and cracking her eyes open. "...Clint?"

Her voice is just above a whisper, but Clint nods eagerly. "I'm here, Nat. It's going to be okay. I'm going to get you out of here." He turns his attention to the lock on his cage, jostling it roughly with his hands. As he fumbles over the lock, he remembers Natasha coming to "take his job", which led to a confrontation with Barney. "You never should have come here, Nat. God, what were you _thinking?_ "

Natasha turns her body so she's facing him now. Judging by the way her arms are behind her back, Clint figures she's restrained. She eyes him as he works. "What was _I_ thinking? I'm not the one who pulled the disappearing act on everyone and ran back to the circus! Everyone is so _worried_ , Clint!"

"They shouldn't be," Clint grumbles, releasing the lock with a frustrated huff. Not even their toughest monkeys can break out of this lock, so Clint never stood a chance. "This is where I belong; this is all I'm good for. Barney ended up here, so, naturally, it's my home, too. He's my family."

She calls him some bad word in Russian, rolling her eyes. "Do you really think I'd be here, tied up, lying on the dirty ground, if I was _wrong?_ Admit it, Clint; I'm right on this one. You _don't_ belong here. Barney doesn't own you and you don't owe him anything. He's never done anything for you, anyway!"

"He taught me how to punch," Clint murmurs.

"He taught you how to punch," Natasha echoes dryly. "Yes. Now I _completely_ understand why you've decided your entire life must revolve around him. How are things going for you on Planet Barney _now?_ "

"He's my _brother_ , Nat," Clint points out. "Look, maybe _you_ don't get it since you're an only child, but-"

"Whoa, whoa, _whoa,_ " Natasha interrupts him, frowning. " _I_ don't get it? Why do you think I _followed_ you into this hellhole? I'm here because _you're_ my family, Clint. You followed Barney here because he's your brother, _sure_ , but he hasn't done anything good for you, now, has he? Meanwhile, _I_ followed you here because I care about you, more than _Barney_ ever did."

"Natasha…"

"Look," Natasha sighs, "you don't owe _anyone_ anything. You don't owe Coulson, and you sure as hell don't owe Barney. Coulson takes care of you because he loves you. The Avengers all love you. _I_ love you. So _of course_ we'll support you. But Barney? Barney doesn't care. He just wants to _hurt_ you."

Clint sighs as well, leaning his head back against the cage bars. "I just don't understand why things are like this...Barney is my brother, my _family._ "

"So was your father," Natasha reminds him. "But you don't need _me_ to tell you why he wasn't a real father for you. Just like that, Barney isn't a real brother for you. A better example of a brother would be Tony or Steve, no matter how annoying they might be, but I think that's part of being a brother, too, except Barney is annoying in all of the _wrong_ ways."

Natasha's words make sense. Honestly, a part of Clint has known these things all along; Barney is no role model for how to be a good brother, and as far as family goes, Barney abandoned him years ago, and has never tried to make up for it. If anything, _Clint's_ been trying to make up for it, and, well...judging by the fact that he's sitting in a cage right now, it's clearly not going well.

"I'm sorry I dragged you into this mess, Natasha," Clint says softly, feeling his eyes water. "I love you, too. You _are_ my family. I just...once I saw the circus came and Barney was back, I-I couldn't stop myself, I just _had_ to see, and then Barney started saying things about you, and…"

"It's okay, Clint." She smiles warmly at him. "I forgive you. And I'm sorry that my escape plan for you failed."

"You were really going to take my place?" Clint can hardly believe it, but, then again, it's _Natasha._ As much as she may deny it to anyone who asks, she's always been _completely_ selfless, _always_ putting everyone before herself. Clint's been on the receiving end of her generosity more times than he could count.

"Duh," she answers with a smirk. "It wasn't that hard of a choice to make."

"You're ridiculous." Clint laughs a little. "You're going to get yourself killed one of these days."

Natasha shrugs.

"Anyway," he frowns again, "what should we do now? I don't know why I'm in a cage and you're not, but I think we should do something about it."

"My guess is that Barney wanted you to watch while he hurt me, or something, and you wouldn't be able to stop him," Natasha says, her voice as lighthearted as ever. If anything, she's slipped into "Black Widow" mode, which means she's analyzing and strategizing. On one hand, Clint wants to grin, because the Black Widow is _awesome_ ; on the other hand, he's still a little terrified over her comment about Barney hurting her. She rolls onto her back, slowly pushing herself up into a sitting position.

Clint doesn't miss the slight grimace she makes.

"Idiot," he huffs, "you're _already_ hurt."

"Just a few bruises, chill out," Natasha insists, exhaling softly once she's sitting upright. She pushes herself closer to the cage, leaning her head toward Clint. "Now, then, like any good spy, I never leave the house without bobby pins."

"Nice hair ribbon," Clint comments, glancing at the purple bow in her hair, which has somehow managed to stay in tact through today. He slips his fingers through the bars, fishing a bobby pin out of the sea of red. "Good thing we watched that YouTube tutorial way back when."

"Coulson judged us _so hard_ when he realized what we were watching," Natasha says with a cackle. "Turns out we were smart to watch it!"

"He's going to ground us so hard," Clint mumbles, sticking the bobby pin into the lock. He jostles it until he hears the telltale click. With a smug grin, he pushes the door open and crawls out. He stops beside Natasha. "Where are you hurt?"

"I'm-"

He doesn't wait for a complete answer, opting to poke her side. Natasha inhales sharply. He rolls his eyes. "Yeah. Okay. Let's just pretend like you probably _didn't_ get punched or kicked or whatever in the stomach and are now sore. Totally. You're so _not_ hurt, wow."

"Way to rub it in," Natasha retorts. "Now shut up and untie me."

Clint quickly undoes the rope binding her wrists, tossing it aside once he's done with it. Natasha sighs, pulling her arms back to their natural place at her sides. She wiggles her fingers, looking down at them lovingly. "It's good to have hands again."

For a moment, Clint focuses on the fact that _this_ is the person who tried to risk everything to save him. This girl, studying her hands like she's just met them for the first time, is his best friend, whom others have always believed to be strange and standoffish. She looks up to meet Clint's eyes with a grin.

"Now that we're together again, I think we can figure out a way to get out of here," she says, her fingers curling into her palms with confidence. "What do you think, Clint?"

He moves without thinking, pulling Natasha into a tight hug. She makes an _oof_ sound.

"Clint?" Natasha asks anxiously. "Are you okay?"

Clint nods. "I'm just really, _really_ glad you're here."

Though he's never wanted her to get caught up in his problems, since they've more often than not endangered her just as much as they did him, having Natasha by his side in the face of adversity _really_ helps him feel better. She's always been the braver one between them (though he knows she'd argue differently), and has never hesitated in enduring pain with him. Staying with the circus for the past day and a half has left Clint feeling completely alone, but if Natasha's here with him…

"It's going to be okay, Clint," Natasha says, hugging him back. "Like I said, when we're together, we can get out. Nothing can beat the two of us! We're Strike Team: Delta, remember?"

Laughing a little, Clint pulls back to face her properly, wiping at his wet eyes. "Yeah. You're right. We're going to be okay."

"We just have to get out of here." Natasha glances around the tent. "Uh...do you know where we are, exactly?"

"This is where Barney and I sleep," Clint says, gesturing to the cot a few feet away from them. She looks at him, eyebrows raised, but he shakes his head. "Barney gets the bed. I get the floor."

"Can we sneak out of here without being seen?" Natasha asks.

"Doubt it," Clint sighs. "Trick Shot and Barney will have put someone out there to make sure we don't get out."

"But, wait," Natasha pauses, "do you think he _expected_ us to break out of here? Like, did he know you would get out of the cage and untie me?"

"Hmm…" Clint twists his mouth thoughtfully. "I'm not sure. Does he know we're that smart?"

"Last time he saw us, we were nine," Natasha reminds him. "Were we really smart then?"

" _I_ think so."

"But what about Barney?"

"I don't know."

Natasha picks at the grass. "If Barney didn't think we were getting out, then that means he must be coming back eventually." She gestures to the empty cage. "He was gonna hurt me in front of you, or whatever."

Clint takes a deep breath. "Can we _not_ talk about that?"

"Sorry, sorry. It's just...he's gotta come back at some point."

It sounds like they're stuck. Clint desperately hopes they aren't. "Did you bring your phone?"

She shakes her head. "I figured they were going to check my pockets, so I didn't want to risk it."

"Damn."

They fall silent for several moments. There's _gotta_ be a way out, _somehow._

"Wait!" Natasha perks up, her expression brightening. She rolls back her sleeve on her right arm, revealing a black watch. The clock face has a red hourglass on it, symbolizing Natasha's Avenger character. Clint recognizes it as the watch Tony had built himself and given to Natasha for her birthday the previous year. She inspects it. "It's not broken!"

"Isn't it just a watch?" Clint asks, feeling confused.

"I'm sorry about this, Clint, but I'm going to spoil your Christmas present." She unclasps it from her wrist, turning it over so she can see the back. Clint notices a tiny switch there, which Natasha manages to flip with her fingernail. "Tony's trying to make these watches for everyone, with their Avenger symbols."

"Didn't Tony just say, like, the other day, that we're too old to play Avengers anymore?" Clint points out.

"Yes, but these watches are also _radios_ ," Natasha explains excitedly. "Like the comms we pretended to have when we played Avengers!"

 _Now_ Clint gets it. "Wait, so you're saying-"

"We have contact with the outside world!" Natasha cheers, throwing her hands up victoriously. She then smiles sheepishly at him. "Sorry to spoil your Christmas present from him."

"No way, I'm _really_ excited for Christmas now," Clint reassures her. "So how does it work?"

"Well, Tony's watch should vibrate or something, since I turned on the radio communications," Natasha says, staring at her watch. "I think Bruce is the only other one who has one yet. Tony's been working on everyone else's for Christmas."

"How generous."

"Let's see...it's 12:13...they should be out at lunch!"

Natasha holds down a button on the side of the watch that Clint assumes is _normally_ used for changing the time. "Tony? Are you there?"

They both duck their heads down close to the watch, waiting nervously for a reply.

Silence meets them. Clint's skeptical. "Are you _sure_ this works?"

"Tony and I have used it a few times before," Natasha says with a frown. She pushes the button again. "Hey! Tony! Look at your stupid watch for once, will you? This is _important!_ "

"What if he left his watch at home today?" Clint asks.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up," Natasha grumbles in a rush. "Tony, I swear to God, if you don't respond to this right now, I _will_ hunt you down and kill you."

"Nat…" Clint looks at her with worry.

"No, it _works_ , I swear it does," Natasha says, frustration and anxiety lacing her voice. "We've done it before, _dammit_ , Tony, come in, _please_ , please respond, I need you…"

" _...Tony, why is your watch talking?"_

Clint and Natasha gasp happily at the sound of Pepper's voice.

" _I think it's Natasha,"_ Tony says.

"Tony!" Natasha calls again. "Tony, I can hear you!"

" _There we go! I knew I did this right,"_ Tony says with a laugh. _"Pepper, isn't science_ amazing? _I can talk to Nat through my watch! Science is the_ best! _"_

"Fanboy later, serious talk now," Natasha interjects. "I'm at the circus with Clint right now."

" _You-you_ what?! _Natasha, what the hell-"_

"I lied and I'm sorry," Natasha cuts him off. "Look, Clint and I are trapped in one of the tents. We need help."

" _Natasha,"_ Steve's talking now, _"didn't you say they'd kill Clint if we called the cops?"_

"Yes, but I'm with Clint now," Natasha says, looking at Clint. "I won't let them do anything to him."

Clint smiles. "It'll be alright, Steve. Nat and I will protect each other until the police come."

" _Alright. Who has their phone?"_ Steve asks. Clint figures he's talking to the rest of their friends.

" _It is against the rules to bring cellular devices to lunch!"_ Thor protests.

" _Tony's always got his,"_ Bruce says.

" _Way to rat me out, Bruce."_

" _Just call the police already, we'll make sure no teachers see,"_ Steve says.

" _Alright, alright! Nat, should we call you back?"_

Before Natasha can reply, footsteps outside catch Clint's attention. He grabs Natasha's arm, shaking his head. If Natasha's watch chirps to life with Tony's voice later on, they might not be in the safety of their solitude to respond.

"No, we gotta go," Natasha says quietly. "Don't call back. I think someone's coming."

" _Copy that. Avengers out."_

Natasha quickly takes off her watch to flip the switch back into clock mode. Clint stands up, pulling her up by the hand.

"Come on, Nat, that could be Barney," Clint whispers.

"He's going to see that we're not restrained anymore," Natasha says. "What do we do?"

"I'll distract him while you run," Clint suggests.

"Do not be an idiot right now!" Natasha snaps quietly. "We got in here together, we're getting out together."

"Fine." Clint thinks for a few moments. "There are two of us and only one of him. Maybe we can overpower him?"

Natasha cracks her knuckles, a menacing expression taking over her face. "I'm more than willing to punch that bastard."

"Sounds like a plan," Clint says. "But...what do we do until the police come? We can't fight off Barney _forever._ "

"Let's just wing it," Natasha suggests with a shrug.

Clint can't help but raise his eyebrows. "I'm sorry, but did _you_ just suggest to _me_ that we wing something? This day just keeps getting weirder."

"Oh, hush." Natasha rolls her eyes. "This is why we're partners; sometimes, you're actually right."

"Only _sometimes?"_

She nods, smiling proudly and crossing her arms over her chest. "The Black Widow is always right. So is Natasha, for that matter."

Suddenly, Barney's voice floats into the tent from where he's standing outside. Clint grabs Natasha's hand and pulls her back toward the cage.

"Okay, I think we should try to take him by surprise," Clint suggests quietly. "You lie on the ground and pretend like you're still unconscious and I'll jump on him when he walks in. Then you help me try to take him down."

Natasha opens her mouth and Clint guesses she's going to try to argue, but Barney's voice draws closer. Clint pushes Natasha's shoulders, guiding her to the ground. She lies down, concealing her hands behind her back and closing her eyes with a deep breath.

Clint bites his lip. Hopefully, this will work. He moves just next to the entrance flap of the tent, flattening himself against vinyl surface so Barney won't immediately see him when he walks in toward Natasha.

Within seconds, Barney enters, striding blindly past Clint. Clint smirks.

"Still sleeping, Natty?" Barney calls to her, his voice grossly affectionate. Clint gags a little. "That's no good. You work here now, remember?" Barney turns his eyes up toward the cage for the first time. "Clint, I'm not so sure about-"

 _There._ Clint utilizes the moment to run up behind Barney and jump on his back, wrapping his arms around his neck. Barney gasps a little in surprise, but Clint just leans back, trying to weigh him down.

In that same moment, Natasha's eyes open, and she's joining in the effort. She grabs Barney's wrists when he tries to reach back and throw Clint off.

Clint realizes he's misjudged his method of attack, as Barney stumbles and starts falling backward. They both tumble to the ground, Barney landing right on top of Clint and knocking the wind out of him. Sputtering for a moment, Clint tries to pull himself away, but Barney roughly grabs his shirt.

"Not today, you-"

But then Natasha's back in the scuffle, throwing herself at Barney. She knocks him away from Clint, her fists clenched and aimed at Barney's head. Due to her smaller size and inferior strength, Barney manages to block her punches.

"I hate you," Natasha spits out, standing over Barney. "Leave Clint alone!"

"What are you gonna do about it, huh?" Barney taunts. "Are you just going to cry like a little baby, just like last time?"

Back when everything had gone to shit the first time around, Natasha had cried her way through a lot of it. There's nothing wrong with crying, Clint remembers reassuring her; Natasha's always been very brave and very selfless, but has cried on the few occasions she's genuinely been frightened. Clint recalls her crying when trying to urge him to report the abuse at home, or when she'd first convinced him to not join the circus with Barney.

"I'm not scared of you," Natasha insists, mercilessly kicking Barney in the shin.

No matter how strong Natasha may be, Clint will always fight for her. Especially if their opponent wants to make her cry.

Barney is no exception.

"You _bitch_ ," Barney growls, pulling himself to his feet. Natasha takes a defensive step back while Clint scrambles to join her side.

"I'm not scared of you, either," Clint says. "We won't let you hurt us anymore."

"Fine," Barney scoffs. "Then I'll just _kill_ you."

With that, he charges, and Clint moves out of the way. Natasha steps to the side, but sticks her foot out to trip Barney. As she'd intended, Barney stumbles, but pulls Natasha down with him. Her surprised gasp is cut off with a pained grunt when Barney grabs her by the front of her sweatshirt.

Clint intercepts before Barney can land a punch, throwing his foot out at Barney's face while prying Barney's hands off of Natasha. Though she's tangled up with them, Natasha manages to kick Barney in the gut.

"Come on, Nat, let's get out of here," Clint says, pulling Natasha to her feet. She stands up beside him and they dart around Barney.

Just before they reach the exit, Swordsman and Trick Shot are standing there, blocking their path. Natasha and Clint skid to a stop, turning to each other in shock.

"Now what?" Natasha asks.

"Now you're finished," Barney says, standing up behind them.

Clint glances around at all of them, trying to come up with a new plan. There _has_ to be a way out of this. Come on, come on, come on...

"Troublemakers," Swordsman says, making a _tsk_ sound. "What are we to do with them?"

"We don't need _both_ of them," Trick Shot comments.

"Then let's get rid of one," Barney suggests all too happily, grabbing Clint and Natasha by the backs of their shirts. Clint glances at Natasha, but she's wearing the neutral expression that means she's trying to come up with an idea.

"Let Natasha go," Clint says, making eye contact with Trick Shot. "She never had anything to do with this in the first place. Just let her go."

"Clint…" Natasha murmurs, looking at him.

"This isn't your fight, Tasha," Clint says, maintaining his eye contact with Trick Shot. "You guys can do whatever you want with me, I won't complain. I don't care what you do to me as long as you let Natasha go. I'll go with you, I'll do everything you tell me to, just, _please_ , don't hurt Natasha."

"How can you promise us that?" Swordsman challenges.

"You have to trust me," Clint says. "But I _swear_ to you, I'll do anything, as long as Natasha can go home."

"Clint, look at me."

Natasha's words catch him by surprise. He turns his eyes to her, wondering what she'll say.

Instead, she reaches her hands up to his ears, and delicately takes out his hearing aids from behind his ears.

"Natasha!" He can't hear his own voice anymore, but speaks anyway. "What are you-"

She treats his hearing aids with the utmost care, her fingers protectively curling over them in her palms. Offering him a smile, she tucks them into the pocket of her sweatshirt.

 _Okay,_ she signs to him, meaning "it'll be okay," but Clint's pretty sure her definition of "okay" is different from his.

Turning her face back toward Trick Shot and Swordsman, she talks quickly, her mouth moving at a speed Clint struggles to keep up with. He can understand a few words through lip reading, but not enough to comprehend what she's saying.

She's probably trying to do something stupid, judging by the idiotically determined expression on her face.

Clint numbly watches Natasha embark on some monologue of unknown words. Occasionally, Trick Shot and Swordsman will say something, or, judging by the stillness of their lips, Barney offers his input. But about _what?_

The conversation's over all too soon and Clint feels Barney's grip on his shirt relax. Swordsman and Trick Shot leave. Natasha starts walking forward, Barney now holding onto her arm. She glances back at Clint with another smile.

"Nat? Nat! Stop! Where are you going?" Clint calls out, trying to follow. But Barney puts a hand out and Natasha shakes her head.

 _Okay,_ she signs to him again.

"No, it won't be okay!" Clint protests. "You just did something stupid, didn't you?"

Her only answer for him is a wider smile.

Barney's glaring at him now, and his grip on Natasha's arm tightens. Natasha flinches slightly, but Clint gets the message; if he interferes, Barney will hurt her.

 _Clint go home,_ Natasha signs. _Go home now._

"Not without you, Nat," Clint insists.

But Barney's pulling Natasha out of the tent now. Clint stands back, his body frozen in confusion and fear. What's going on? Why is this happening? What are they going to do with Natasha?

"Natasha!" Clint cries out, feeling tears roll down his cheeks. This is suddenly really scary; before, it had been okay, because Natasha had been by his side, but now...now she's off somewhere else with _very_ dangerous people, and if Clint tries to protect her, he might only make things worse.

He falls to his knees, punching the ground. He doesn't care how loudly he's crying; to him, it's absolutely silent, _menacingly_ silent. It's not fair. This isn't fair. How could he be so _dumb_ to come back here? Of course Natasha would follow him when she figured it out; now look at what's happened!

* * *

"Mr. Coulson!"

Coulson turns around at the call. Steve leads the Avengers racing down the hallway toward him; they'd managed to catch Coulson on his way out of the office. He'd apparently taken the day off to get a handle on everything going on with Clint missing, but seemed to have come in for something work-related. (To Steve, being a teacher sounded really hectic.)

"Hey, guys," Coulson greets, not even bothering to smile. Steve can understand why.

They skid to a stop in front of him. Though the running wore Steve's weaker body out, he pushes himself to speak. "Coulson," he switches to the less formal address they've all come to use with Coulson over the years, "we know where Clint is."

"You _what?_ "

"Natasha called me using her watch!" Tony pipes in, holding up his Iron Man-themed watch. "Well, it's a watch _I_ made for her, so it has radio communication-"

"-but that's not the point," Steve cuts in. "The point is that the circus is in town right now. That's where Clint is."

Coulson says something under his breath that Steve figures is not a very good word. "I didn't even _realize_ the circus was in town. Are you guys sure? Wait." His eyes dart around their group, studying the _four_ of them. Clint's missing, so it's natural there'd only be five of them, but there are only four...Steve has an inkling of what Coulson will ask next. "Natasha _called_ you? Is she not here right now?"

"She went home this morning," Bruce explains quietly. "She had a bit of a, uh, panic attack right before class started."

"It was my fault," Thor says, his shoulders sagging, "I mentioned the circus, so she thought of Clint."

"Natasha knew where Clint was _this morning?_ " Coulson raises an eyebrow.

"Um...please don't be mad at Natasha," Steve says softly. "But she's known that Clint's at the circus ever since yesterday. She couldn't tell you, though, because Barney threatened her and Clint. Since Thor brought up the circus this morning, we figured it out, and Natasha...well, she freaked out and got sent home."

"The only reason we're telling you now is because Natasha's at the circus, too," Tony explains, gesturing to his watch again. "She called me with her watch because she and Clint got stuck somewhere, or something. They said it was safe to call the cops, so I just did, right before we came to see you."

Coulson takes a deep breath, laying a hand on Tony's shoulder. "Thank you, Tony." He actually smiles then. "Thank you, all of you. I understand why you kept it a secret, but thank you for telling me now."

"We just want them to be okay," Steve murmurs.

"They will be, Steve," Coulson says gently. "I'll make sure of it."

"Are you going to go there now?" Bruce asks.

"Yes." Coulson pauses. "I know you all want to come with me, but the best thing you can do right now is stay here at school, where it's safe. I'll get Clint and Tasha out of there in no time."

Steve hopes Coulson can do it.

* * *

Clint isn't sure how long he cries for, but the next time he looks up, there's a cop standing over him. He blinks up at the officer, confusion putting an end to his seemingly infinite flow of tears.

"Are you a cop?"

It's a dumb question, but Clint can't help himself. The uniformed woman nods, crouching down to his height (he's still sitting on his legs). She starts saying something else, but Clint struggles to understand her lips. He points at his ears.

"I'm deaf," he says, interrupting whatever she's saying. "I usually have hearing aids, but my friend stole them a little while ago. My friend's name is Natasha. She's here somewhere. My brother took her away and I don't know where they went. I think she's in danger. Please help her."

The officer nods again, and Clint smiles a little. Maybe this won't be horrible after all.

She pulls out her phone, which surprises Clint, typing something on the screen and then turning it to him. He realizes she's trying to communicate with him.

Her text reads, _Are you Clint Barton?_

"Yes, I'm Clint," Clint says. "I'm twelve years old. My older brother Barney works here and said if I left he would hurt Natasha. But then Natasha convinced him to let me go, and then she disappeared with him. Please find her."

He feels like he's repeating himself, but he's _really_ worried. What if Natasha's already gone? What if they took her somewhere else, or, or-

 _I have other officers here with me,_ Officer Torres (Clint finally reads her name tag) assures him through her phone. _They will find her, I promise. In the meantime, I need to get you out of here, OK?_

Clint nods, taking a deep, calming breath. He decides to trust Officer Torres. "Okay."

* * *

Can this day get any worse?

Natasha bites back a gasp when Barney suddenly pushes her to the ground. Great. It's hardly been ten minutes since she left Clint, and Barney's already messing with her, or so she thinks.

She narrowly avoids slamming face-first into the grass as she catches sight of two tall police officers approaching. Barney's running away in the opposite direction now. She can't help but grin. Tony's call for help came quickly!

Carefully, Natasha pushes herself up into a seated position, looking up at the two officers. One of them steps around her in pursuit of Barney while the other crouches down beside her.

"Hey, there, are you okay?" he asks, his voice _way_ too gentle for talking to someone who's _twelve years old!_ Then again, people always assume she's younger than she actually is because of her small size, so that must be why he's talking to her like this.

"I'm okay," Natasha shrugs, reaching a hand into her sweatshirt pocket. With as much care she'd used to place them there, she pulls out Clint's hearing aids, glancing them over. They don't appear to have been damaged when she fell. She breathes a sigh of relief.

"Do those hearing aids belong to you?" the man, Officer Clarke, asks next.

"No, these belong to my friend, Clint," Natasha explains, placing them back in her pocket. She meets Officer Clarke's eyes. "His name is Clint Barton. He should be in a little red tent on the other side of the big tent. He needs help."

"First of all, may I ask your name and how old you are?"

"Natasha Romanoff, twelve years old," Natasha answers without hesitation, than grimaces. "Um, actually, _legally_ , it's Natalia Romanova, but…"

"That's alright, a lot of people use nicknames," Clarke says, standing up and offering a hand to her. She grabs it and pushes herself to her feet with a nod.

"Clint helped me pick it. Long story," Natasha says dismissively. "Anyway, Clint needs help. He's injured. Bruises, mainly. His older brother, Barney Barton, is that man that was just with me. He abuses him. Please arrest him and make sure he can never hurt Clint again."

"Wow, Natasha, you could make a good cop someday yourself," Clarke comments with a chuckle. "You're very straightforward with your information. Thank you."

"I just want to protect Clint," Natasha says softly, looking down at the grass. "He's very important to me."

"I can tell."

Suddenly, the small radio on Clarke's uniform crackles to life. _"I've located the missing boy Clinton Barton."_

"That's my partner, Officer Torres," Clarke explains. "She was supposed to go check out the other area, where you said Clint is, and it sounds like she found him. Excellent work, Natasha."

"I didn't do anything," Natasha protests, glancing up at him. "By the time I told you, your partner was already on her way, so my information didn't matter."

But he shakes his head. "You've been a big help, Natasha. And the way you're so concerned for your friend tells me you've just been trying to help him, too."

 _Trying_ is the keyword there, Natasha thinks bitterly to herself. She resumes studying the dead grass beneath her feet.

"Clarke here. I've located the missing girl, Natalia Romanova."

* * *

"Please, for the love of God, give me back my hearing aids."

Natasha looks up from where she's sitting at the back of the ambulance, absentmindedly swinging her legs while the doctors had been checking her out, at the sound of Clint's voice. She smiles widely, launching herself off of the silvery platform.

" _Clint,_ " she sighs, pulling him into a hug. In her excitement, she throws her arms around his neck, despite the height difference. He returns the hug quickly, his arms falling into place below hers. She presses her head against his.

"I can't believe you tried to take my place _twice_ now," Clint says, exhaling loudly. He sounds pretty exasperated. "Can you please cut it out with the self-sacrificing act?"

She just shrugs her shoulders in reply, because he wouldn't be able to understand anything she says and she also doesn't mind doing what she'd done for him. If anything, she knows she would still do it if something like this ever happened again. After a few more moments, Natasha releases Clint, digging into her pocket with her hands.

"Here," she says, handing him his hearing aids. He grumbles something about her being a kleptomaniac (Coulson would be proud to hear Clint's appropriate use of one of their recent vocab words) as he places them back behind his ears.

"I really hate you sometimes, Tasha, ya know?"

"Oh, trust me, I know." She rolls her eyes, thinking back to the time she spent mulling over things before coming out to retrieve Clint. "I hate you more than I hate Russia, and that's saying a lot."

"I hate you more than I hate broken arrows," Clint mutters in reply.

"Did you get checked out by the doctors yet?"

"Yep. They brought _two_ ambulances for us. I feel special."

Natasha smiles, grabbing Clint's hand and intertwining their fingers. "I'm just glad this is over."

"Me, too." Clint pauses. "Wait, Natasha...what did you tell Barney and them...when you…?"

"It's not important," Natasha says in a rush, shaking her head.

"That doesn't sound good," Clint says.

"I just wanted them to take me instead of you," Natasha murmurs. "So I offered things they wanted. That's all. It doesn't matter anymore, though. It's over."

"Okay…" Clint sighs. Natasha can tell by the tone of his voice he's not quite finished with this conversation yet, but she is. She doesn't want to think about Barney right now. Fortunately, Clint changes the subject. "Coulson's going to ground me _very_ hard for this, isn't he?"

"Yes, and _me_ ," Natasha points out. "So is Mr. Petrovich, for that matter...damn."

"Speak of the devil."

Coulson's running to them across the sidewalk, brushing past any cops or other personnel who try to stop him. It's a bit of a ridiculous thing to watch, but it makes Natasha laugh a little, which feels _wonderful_ after the day she's had.

Clint takes a step forward to meet Coulson, but continues holding Natasha's hand. "Coulson, I'm _so sorry._ "

But Coulson doesn't stop before Clint; he keeps going until he's got Clint wrapped up in a big bear hug. Natasha grins at the sight. _This_ is Clint's family, she thinks. Not Barney, not his dad, _definitely_ not the circus. Clint's family is Coulson hugging him after a day spent apart while Natasha holds his hand.

"I'm just so glad you're okay," Coulson mumbles.

Natasha doesn't need to see Clint's face to know that Clint's tearing up; she can hear it in his voice when he says, "I missed you."

Then she sees Mr. Petrovich approaching them, and while he may not be her father, Natasha has to admit she's missed his quiet presence.

* * *

"So, Coulson says they're grounded."

"That doesn't surprise me," Tony comments with a shrug, walking through Clint and Coulson's house beside Steve.

It's been a day since Natasha and Clint disappeared and reappeared at the circus, and, naturally, they both stayed home from school that day. The Avengers had all decided to keep their distance after Clint and Natasha had first been found, to give them a chance to spend time with each other and their fathers (or _whatever_ Mr. Petrovich is, in Natasha's case). Bruce and Thor both got caught up in some school affairs today, while Pepper's busy doing...Pepper things (Tony can never keep up with her schedule), so that left just Steve and Tony to check in on their two star-crossed teammates.

"I can't believe how reckless Nat is sometimes," Steve admits quietly.

"If it's for Clint, she'll do anything, move the moon and stars if she has to. And he'd do the same for her," Tony says.

"God forbid something like this happens again, then."

"I hear ya, Cap. They've been through enough."

They turn down the corner of the hallway, coming upon the living room, where Coulson had told them Clint and Natasha were currently hanging out. Coulson, meanwhile, decided to stay in the dining room to catch up on some paperwork; Tony figures his and Steve's presence alleviated Coulson from the task of watching over Clint and Natasha himself.

Surprisingly, Steve and Tony find themselves in a silent room. They look at each other in confusion before glancing around.

"Romeo? Juliet? You guys around?" Tony calls, taking a few steps in. "Don't pull this missing bullshit on us again already, I swear to God-"

"Found them."

Steve had walked over to the other side of the couch; the back of it faces the entrance, so anything in front of it would be obscured unless one walked farther into the room. Tony follows Steve and comes to a stop beside him next to the couch, looking on with a smile.

"Aww," Tony comments. He glances at Steve. "Blackmail material?"

"Not this time," Steve says, shaking his head. "Let them have their moment for now. We'll just get them the next time they do something like this, when they haven't just come home from a potentially life threatening situation."

"Thus is the life of an Avenger," Tony declares valiantly, holding his hand out like a true thespian. "Don't tell Natasha I said this, but they look kind of...cute."

"Don't tell Natasha that I agree," Steve returns.

Tony finds himself smiling. He's always admired the enthusiastic and somewhat childish atmosphere Clint and Natasha carry about them, wherever they go, despite the things they've had to overcome in the past. It's as if _nothing_ can beat them. And, honestly, if someone tells Tony at this moment in time that Natasha will make her marriage promise to Clint come true in the future, he wouldn't doubt them.

They already look as close as a happily married couple, sleeping on the carpeted floor between the couch and the TV in a tangle of blankets. The short table that usually stood in front of the couch had been pushed off to the side, replaced by several layers of blankets laid down over the carpet. On top of them, Natasha and Clint sleep, their heads tilted in toward each other, though their bodies remain apart (but not by much distance). Two thick blankets cover their bodies.

"I guess we shouldn't bother them, huh?" Tony sighs.

"Probably not. They've been through a lot, so they need the sleep," Steve says.

Natasha murmurs something softly in her sleep. Clint leans in even _closer_ toward her in response.

"Alright, I can't handle this cuteness anymore," Tony says, turning away. "Let's get going."

"See you guys later," Steve whispers before joining Tony in exiting the room.

* * *

 **A/N:** so yes I am officially now working on a multi-chapter fic of this au ok bye


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